


A Hoard of Sparks

by forget_me_nots



Category: Flight Rising, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Dragon AU, Flight Rising AU, Found Family, Gen, Gore, Magic, More tags and characters to come, Parental Roy Mustang, Picking the Best of Both Canons, Traveling, Violence, semi canon divergence in an AU, this is almost a soulmate au, you don't need to play FR to get this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forget_me_nots/pseuds/forget_me_nots
Summary: Roy is a young Guardian dragon on a journey to find his Charge, the item or dragon he will then protect with his life, for the rest of his life.





	1. The Windswept Plateau

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm Forget-me-nots and I Like Dragons.  
> The idea for this came from me binging FMAB in about two weeks after it came out on Netflix, faceplanting back into my deep love for the series, and deciding to do with it what I do to all my other favorite things: throw dragons at it. And this time, rather than try and come up with all my own lore and worldbuilding I... only half did all that, and threw the FMA characters into the Flight Rising universe. Although... not exactly. I've changed some stuff (most notably, Centaurs in the windswept plateau, and the sea of a thousand currents being saltwater instead of freshwater). As well as throwing in the occasional Ursegal ( http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/1863552 ) word. Sorry if I'm already scaring some of you guys off at this, but I promise, it'll be good. Any and all Ursegal word'll get translated within the same sentence, or in italics directly after. I doubt I'll be putting in any full sentences because I don't really know Ursegal, but I just thought it'd be a cool touch.  
> Anyways, this first chapter is mostly just intro, but I hope you enjoy it!

Roy hatched in the herd. His first memories are of lying curled on his mother’s wide, strong back, and listening to the muffled sound of many hoofbeats, the warmth of the sun on his back.  
“You’ll break my heart someday, Roy-baide,” his mother would always say, her pale green eyes large and soft and so different from the dark eyes of the herd.  
And Roy would always ask why, and she would shake her great head slowly.  
“It is the way of all Guardians,” was the only answer she would ever give.

Life in the herd was easy. His mother knew how to avoid clan territories, she could smell the marks and read the signs that other dragons left to keep the Dunhoof herd the two lived with safe. Roy grew up as grounded as his mother and the centaur company she kept. His mother traveled a consistent path, from river to river, pond to pond, waterhole to waterhole, and the varying landscape between. To the south, always the dark smoggy line of the Ashfall Waste. For some reason, the dark line always seemed to call to Roy, although the herd never approached it.

“What is the Ashfall Waste like?” Roy asked, scrambling from farther behind in the herd to reach one of the older mares.  
She looked down at the dark hatchling with a gentle expression.  
“We don’t go to the Ashfall Waste, little one. It’s too dangerous, the land changes too quickly. Here on the plateau, the land is steady, and your mother can guide us,” she said.  
Roy sulked.  
“None of you ever know anything useful,” he grumbled.  
“Well, perhaps the things you think are useful are not the same as things that are actually useful. Would knowing what the Ashfall Waste is like make it easier for you to catch food? Or find water?” the mare said, and Roy snorted.  
“No,” he said grudgingly.  
“Then perhaps you should focus your curiosities elsewhere. Learn the paths your mother travels. One day, you may even be able to lead a herd of your own. Although, I suppose you dragons call them clans.”  
“Can you tell me about clans?” Roy asked.  
The mare sighed, and looked up to the sky, as if asking for divine intervention. Such was the nature of hatchlings and foals. Full of questions.  
“A clan is like a herd of dragons. Your mother might be the better one to ask. But most clans are hostile. They would drive us from their territory. The herd is only safe thanks to the paths your mother takes us on. Should we linger, the clans nearby would drive us out,” the mare said.  
“Then clans sound awful. I should go tell them to leave the Herd alone,” Roy said, shuffling his wings.  
The mare laughed.  
“I would talk to your mother more before dismissing all clans.”

As Roy grew older, the more he realized he looked different from his mother. Firstly, it was his eyes. While hers were as pale green as the tall grasses they travelled through, Roy’s were a deep orange, a color he had never been able to find before. There were a few wildflowers that had came close, but never as vivid. Secondly, her body was bulky and large, low to the ground, her wings small, her head broad, her horns short. Roy thought that his body might someday grow to be like hears, the same way the gangly foals would someday grow into proper-looking Centaurs. But Roy’s head remained narrow and streamlined, the thick plates covering his belly did not thin, and he never grew any more horns than the two just above the stiff fins on his cheeks.  
In fact, the larger Roy grew, the more he seemed to grow different from his mother. And the more the dark clouds in the south seemed to call him. He grew bored of playing with the foals, and became more interested in staring to the southern horizon.

Finally, one evening, when the herd stopped to rest for the night, and Roy was watching the sky darken to match the clouds of the Ashfall Waste to the south, his mother approached him.  
“Roy-baide, I always knew you would break my heart,” she said, sitting down beside him. “The Wastes call to you.”  
“There’s something important in them,” he said. “I know it. I’m meant to go there.”  
“You’re a few cycles old now, I suppose it is time,” she said.  
Roy looked down at her, stunned.  
“Wait, you mean you’d let me go?” he asked.  
“You’re a Guardian. It’s well enough time for you to leave and break my heart. Your instincts will lead you to your Charge, and then you’ll never return to me.”  
Roy’s mother hung her head, and closed her eyes.  
“You knew I’d have to leave you? Leave the herd?” Roy said.  
“Of course. I knew many Guardians, once. They came and left, always traveling, always searching for their Charge.” she said. “I knew it, the moment I found your egg, that you too would leave eventually. I thought, perhaps, that altering my path to stay away from the Wastes that I’d get to keep you a little longer. I was selfish, but I am glad I got to raise you, even if it only was for a cycle or two.”  
Roy dipped his head and nuzzled his mother. Although he had since learned she had not been the one to lay the egg he hatched from, she would always be “mother” in his mind.  
“I’m glad I have a mother like you. I promise I’ll find you again,” he said.  
“You have grown into a fine dragon. I’m sad I won’t be around to see you grow into a great one.”

Roy left the next morning, not without saying his goodbyes, of course, and set out southwards, towards the dark band on the horizon. It was odd to travel alone, but it felt right, finally traveling to the Ashfall Wastes.  
He found himself unconsciously avoiding clan territories. He’d learned well from his mother how to tell where the boundaries were marked. Carved sigils on the large rocks that thrust up from the grasses, old bamboo stalks with flaking paint stuck into the ground, gouges in the ground where dragons had taken wing, and the lingering wind-faded scents at streams and springs.  
He spent his first night alone by a pond where all the scents had faded enough that he was sure no dragons would come along and surprize him. In the morning, he snapped up a few of the small fish swimming inside it, and then grabbed the ambitious snapping turtle that tried to eat his tail. His mother had never eaten turtle, but from her stories of Guardians, he’d learned that they could eat just about anything.  
The turtle made a nice breakfast, and filled his stomach better than the small fish. 

The next few days were uneventful, with the young Guardian walking ever southwards, thinking about what might await him in the Ashfall Wastes during the day, and what his mother and the herd were doing during the night. The days passed quite uneventful, and the nights even more so, although, there was a sort of building excitement to be getting ever closer to the Wastes.  
Roy woke with the singing birds, as had become routine, and caught the few brave ones that sang closest to him. He much preferred turtles for breakfast to birds, but there weren’t always ponds to sleep by. After taking a moment to orient himself, which was hardly necessary, he continued south.  
By mid morning, the young Guardian had settle thoroughly into his routine of daydreaming enough about his destination to not be bored, but paying attention enough to where he was walking so he didn’t end up on a clan’s territory. His attention thus split, he didn’t notice the flying dragon following him until it landed in his path.  
Startled out of his half-daze, Roy jumped back.  
“Hello! Sorry to startle you, but I noticed you walking, and wondered if you were hurt or something,” the other dragon said.  
He was slightly larger than Roy, another Guardian, but with dark brown scales patterned like drying cracked clay, and eyes the color of new grass. The strange Guardian also had the beginnings of a beard that, while small, didn’t look nearly as scraggly as Roy’s. The younger Guardian found himself oddly jealous of that fact, in the same way he was driven south.  
The stranger snaked his head forwards to sniff at Roy curiously.  
“You smell like Centaur. I heard stories of a herd around these parts. Did they get you?” The stranger asked.  
“I- of course not. I’m not hurt, either,” Roy said hurriedly. “Who are you?”  
The stranger puffed out his chest, and the large plated scales of his underbelly and neck gleamed in the sunlight.  
“I’m Maes!” He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Who are you?”  
“Roy.”  
“Well, Roy, if you’re not hurt, then why aren’t you flying?” Maes asked.  
Roy looked away.  
“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “My mother was a Snapper…”  
Maes made an odd noise.  
“And your clanmates never taught you? How old are you? You’re a bit smaller than me, I’d guess maybe a cycle or two old, and you can’t even fly?” The other guardian said incredulously.  
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I bet loads of dragons can’t,” Roy growled.  
“Sure, but you’ll never get anywhere fast if you can’t fly. If you’re as old as I think you are, you’re a Yevaun, you’re Searching, aren’t you.”  
“So what if I am?”  
“How will you be able to keep up with your charge if they are a dragon that can fly? What if your charge is at the top of an unscalable mountain?”  
“So how am I supposed to learn? I didn’t grow up in a clan, and I have no intention of joining one,” Roy snapped.  
Maes smiled.  
“Well, I could teach you!”  
“You?”  
“Why not? I’m still looking for my Charge, we could travel together for a while, and I can teach you,” he said.  
Roy frowned.  
“I don’t see why not, but there’s really nothing in it for you.”  
“Nah, there is. I get some company! After traveling alone for a cycle, it gets pretty lonely,” Maes said.  
Roy couldn’t help but agree.

Maes talked a lot. Perhaps it was because he’d spent quite a bit of time without anyone to talk to, or perhaps he was always so talkative, Roy couldn’t tell. But the younger guardian couldn’t help but warm up to Maes’ company.  
“We can start with the basics after lunch if you’d like. It’ll be a bit difficult out here on the flat planes, but I suppose it could be worse…” Maes said.  
“Worse how?” Roy asked.  
“Could be in the Twisting Crescendo, that giant storm to the west of here,” Maes said.

Maes was a very good teacher. He started by going over the proper way Roy would have to flap his wings, and then showed the younger guardian how to take off and land. Of course, Roy wasn’t able to take off yet, his flight muscles weren’t quite strong enough to get him off the ground. His wings were discouragingly weak from lack of use, a fact Roy found quite humiliating, but Maes thankfully didn’t poke any fun at it.  
After a few days, Roy finally managed to get airborne. Maes roared triumphantly and flew circles around Roy in excitement, and Roy celebrated right alongside him.  
“Now we can make proper time! You’ll probably be a bit sore starting out, but once your wings get stronger, you’ll be able to fly for hours and hours,” Maes said.  
“Thank you,” Roy said, once they landed. “For teaching me how to fly.”  
Maes grinned.  
“You’re very welcome, but I wouldn’t say I’m quite done yet. There’s a lot you still have to learn now that you can get into the air. You have to be able to pay attention to the wind and the weather so you’re not knocked out of the sky and…” The other guardian rattled on, but Roy was far too happy to pay attention. He could fly.  
And Maes certainly was right about being sore for the first few days. The next morning, Roy felt as if overnight someone had tightened all the muscles in his chest and shoulders like harp strings, and that if he so much as opened his wings, that they would fall off.  
“Windsinger’s Kites,” he groaned, and Maes laughed.  
“You’ll just have to keep flying. It’ll stop hurting eventually,” Maes said, playfully bumping against Roy, making the younger dragon stagger slightly, and wince in pain.  
“Can’t we just walk today?” he complained.  
“What sort of dragon doesn’t want to fly? We belong in the sky,” Maes said.  
There was no arguing with him. Roy soon learned that once Maes had his heart set on something, there was no changing his mind. So Roy flew alongside him on aching wings, and Maes continued to instruct Roy on how to find and follow patterns in the wind. How to spot dangerous weather, how to find and use updrafts. It was so much information pouring into his brain that he didn’t know how he’d be able to remember it all.

The two flew, seemingly aimlessly and without direction for a few days, before they encountered a clan.  
Roy had forgotten all about clans, being to preoccupied with learning flight and chatting with Maes. He’d forgotten to be careful about looking for bordermarks, and other signs of dragons.  
So when the two guardians were confronted by the longest dragon Roy had ever seen, he nearly fell out of the sky. 

His wings locked, pain shooting through his chest and shoulders. He hadn’t been careful enough, and now they’d strayed into a clan’s territory and were going to be attacked, he was sure of it. Before dropping more than a tail-length, Roy forced his wings to work again, rising to be level with Maes and the newcomer. The dragon was long and thin, with too many wings and giant grass-green eyes that darted from Roy to Maes. It’s long body twisted and looped as it hovered in the air before them.  
“What business do you have with the Clan?” The dragon asked, it’s voice high and reedy.  
“We’re just passing through, seeking our Charges,” Maes said, and the odd dragon nodded.  
“You are welcome to spend the night with our clan, or pass through our territory as you please. If you are hungry, come to our lair and eat,” The dragon offered.  
“Thank you, but we’d just like to continue on our way,” Maes said after glancing over at Roy, who nodded slightly.  
“Alright then. I will let the Clan know we have two passing Yevaun on the territory, and not to bother you,” The dragon said, nodding a few times, before looping off.  
“What the hell was that guy?” Roy asked once he was sure the odd dragon was out of earshot.  
Maes snorted.  
“What, never seen a Spiral before? Surely your clan had spirals in it, you live on the Windswept Plateau! Unless you’ve been walking north for a while, even then, I can’t believe you hadn’t ran into any Spirals,” Maes said.  
Roy shook his head.  
“I didn’t really grow up in a typical clan, I suppose,” he said.  
“Guess not. Spirals originated here. Legend says that the Windsinger made them out of grass, bamboo, and breezes,” Maes said.  
Roy considered the long dragon they had just encountered for a few moments.  
“That’s believable. And if Spirals are made of grass, bamboo, and breezes, then what are us Guardians made out of?” he asked teasingly.  
Maes laughed.  
“Well, the Tidelord made us Guardians out of coral, kelp roots, and strong ocean currents.”  
“Sure. What about Snappers?”  
“Boulders, cacti, and memories. They were the first dragons, you know.”  
“Really?”  
“Of course! The Earthshaker got lonely after all the other Gods left in the wake of the pillar of the world breaking, so he made the first dragons, Snappers, to keep him company. All the other Gods were just copying him.”  
“You seem to know a lot about all this.”  
“Well, my father was the clan storyteller. The Creation of the Dragons was his favorite story to tell, and when I have hatchlings of my own, I’ll tell them the story of the Creation of the Dragons too. It is an important story, it’s how we came to be!”  
“If you plan to be a storyteller, then why don’t you tell me a story?” Roy challenged.  
“Alright, I’ll tell you the most important story then, even more important than the Creation of the Dragons: The Creation of Sornieth!” Maes exclaimed, “The world was created by the First Four: The Earthshaker, the Windsinger, the Tidelord, and the Flamecaller, each seeking to create Sornieth to their own liking…”

The two guardians, much to Roy’s relief, made a point not to linger long in other clan’s territories. Maes told every story he remembered from hatchlinghood as the two traveled. They were flying south east, and eventually reached the sea.  
Something caught in Roy’s chest at the first breath of salty air he took. The same part of him that drove him south suddenly sent a second wind to his aching wings.  
_Home!_ The breeze seemed to whisper.  
Beside him, Maes seemed to also perk up.  
The band of blue at the horizon drew closer, until the crash of waves could be heard. A strange sense of belonging fell over Roy, and he landed at the edge of the surf.  
Cool blue waves washed over his talons, and he jumped back. Maes landed in the waves with a terrific splash and a peal of laughter.  
“The Sea of a Thousand Currents! This is where we’re from!” Maes crowed, spinning in a circle and kicking up seafoam, sandy mud, and water.  
Hesitant at getting wet, Roy stayed at the edge of the water, letting the waves cary sand over his talons. Maes frolicked in the waves, splashing about like a hatchling.  
“Come on, Roy. Don’t tell me that you can’t swim either,” Maes teased, wading over to where Roy stood at the edge of the sea.  
“Do you know how to swim?” Roy asked, teasing the other dragon right back.  
“Well, I suppose not, but we’re Guardians. It shouldn’t be too hard to learn,” Maes said.  
“I suppose not. Made of currents, right?” Roy said.  
“Come on. The waves are so nice! I feel like… I need to go deeper,” Maes said, turning to look out to the horizon.  
Roy kicked gently at the wave that washed in.  
“As in swimming?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t think I really want to.”  
Maes turned back.  
“Really? Come on, it’s our element,” he begged.  
“It’s neither of our elements, Maes. You’re a wind dragon, and I’m a fire dragon,” Roy said. “Neither of us belong in the sea.”  
“We’re Guardians! Of course we belong here!” Maes protested. “Come on, we’re searching for our charges together, right?”  
“Where does…” Roy faltered. He’d never really tried to put into words the feeling that drew him towards the Ashfall Wastes. “Where are you drawn?”  
Maes frowned.  
“Deeper. Aren’t you?”  
“South,” Roy said, turning his head to look at the darker clouds that loomed on the southern horizon. The waves washed over his talons again.  
Maes seemed to droop.  
“This isn’t just because you’re a fire dragon, is it? You’re not just trying to get out of going swimming?” he asked, wading closer to Roy.  
“It’s always been what’s calling me, Maes. Maybe it’s just where I need to be to go home, or maybe that’s where my charge is waiting,” Roy said.  
“But… come on, don’t tell me you didn’t feel… feel that sense of belonging when you first saw the sea,” Maes said. “Please, come with me. We’ve travelled this far together. I don’t want to leave the Plateau alone.”  
Roy did want to go with the other Guardian. The two had become close friends while traveling together, and he didn’t want to travel alone again either. And Maes was right, there was something almost comforting about the sound of the waves, the distant seabirds, the lap of the waves on his talons, but…  
But.  
“I don’t want to travel alone either, but I need to go to the Ashfall Wastes.” Roy said, and he stepped deeper into the water to spread a wing across Maes’ back.  
“We’ll see each other again. I promise.” Roy said.  
Maes ducked his head to press his snout under Roy’s jaw.  
“When we see each other again, I’ll be a Sulan, I’ll have a mate and a clan and hatchlings,” Maes said.  
“You better have some new stories for me, then,” Roy said, forcing a laugh.  
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

The two guardians stood there, leaning on each other in the receding water for a few more moments before pulling away.  
“Keep a close eye on the weather. Vanderen! Good travels! May you find your Charge swiftly and keep them well guarded!” Maes said.  
“May you as well. Vanderen! Good travels!” Roy said, spreading his wings.  
“Vanderen!”  
“Vanderen!”  
The two called good travels back and forth until they were out of earshot. 

Roy flew from sunrise to sunset each day for three days, flying just inland from the sea until the sky grew choked with dark, ashy clouds, and the land changed from verdant green grass to warm, dark rock. The salty smell of the nearby sea was still present, but a new scent joined it.  
One of sulfur, molten metal, and soot.  
He had reached the Ashfall Wastes.


	2. The Ashfall Waste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy meets two strange dragons while traveling through the Ashfall Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said that I was gonna not do too much world building for this.... AND YET  
> Dragons in the Fire Flight are mostly super buddy-buddy with each other and call each other "hearthbrother" and "hearthsister" (or "hearthsibbling"). It's sorta like calling someone bro? I guess? Even if you don't really know each other, it's sorta like "we're both from the same place, i get you, you get me, we're cool."   
> Unless you're a stickler for etiquette and all that. It's more of a thing with younger dragons of the fire flight.
> 
> We also get to meet Riza and her dad! Hooray! 
> 
> thank you guys for putting up with my nonsense

The air in the Ashfall Wastes was very different from the air in the Windswept Plateau. That was the first thing Roy noticed. The first time the wind actually died down he thought something had gone wrong. Having grown up somewhere where the wind was always rushing through the grass and whipping past as a constant, near-quiet companion, the stillness was almost uncomfortable. It was almost unthinkable that there were places that weren’t windy all the time. But here one was. He crossed the large canyon separating the Windswept Plateau from the Ashfall Wastes and the wind just…

Stopped.

 

There was also the fact of how dark the sky was. It was always cloudy in the Ashfall Wastes. The sky was always choked with dark, ashen clouds, smoke, steam, and smog. Everything was covered in soot and ash, and the landscape was a barren-looking dark grey. With his dark, dull scales, Roy blended in perfectly.  
Only hardy plants grew. Spiny cacti that were shockingly orange under the layer of ash, low-growing tough scrub, dull lichens, and stony succulents. The only plants that Roy saw that were familiar looking were ones cultivated by the occasional clan. 

And that was another difference. Clans were few and far between, and seemed to cluster around open veins of ore, active lava pools and volcanoes, and other good places to set up forge. While in the Windswept Plateau water was the best place to house a clan, in the Ashfall Waste it seemed that anything that might benefit metalsmithing came first, and water and food came second.

 

Despite the large shift in landscape and culture, Roy felt at home. 

He was never really cold, per say, in the Windswept Plateau, but the ever-present heat of the Wastes was comfortable. The right temperature. 

He could easily bed down for the night under an overhanging rock (to shelter from the falling ash), and wake up sprawled out rather than curled tightly. The nights cooled, but not noticeably. 

Roy felt at home, but still restless. He wanted to settle down by some quiet lava pool, make a life there, but the pull of the Search kept him moving. 

He decided that the best course of action would be to start asking around. Perhaps there was some relic or ruin he would have to protect. Or maybe he’d find a dragon in one of the clans nearby. Either way, it was time to stop avoiding the hard-working clans that called the Ashfall Waste home.

 

The Eleven must have heard his thoughts, because the next day Roy spotted a lone dragon circling about mid-afternoon. It was the perfect opportunity to ease into the social situation.

Shaking the light dusting of ash off of himself to appear a bit more presentable, Roy flew towards the circling dragon. Judging from the way they were flying, they had to have caught a thermal. 

As he approached, Roy observed the circling dragon. Their body was a pale, ghostly white that seemed nearly too clean for the ashy landscape, and their long wings were as dark as the sky, and had an odd shine to them. They had a thin, streamlined body, their legs tucked up too close to be easily discerned. A crown of short horns curved up before a crest of dark feathers on their birdlike head. At the tip of their long tail was a tuft of feathers just as dark and glistening as the ones on their upper wings.

 

A skydancer.

 

Made originally of bamboo leaves, paper, and high, thin clouds, Maes had said. The second race the Windsinger had made. 

Looking at the circling, monochrome Skydancer, Roy again could see how the legend had come about. The Skydancer looked like it had been made to be on the wing, like a decorative kite had merged with a cloud and became a living, breathing creature.

The Skydancer seemed to notice Roy, and, with far more grace than Roy could ever hope to manage while flying, angled it’s wings to swoop closer.

“Hearthbrother,” The Skydancer greeted. They had the orange eyes of a fire dragon. Another thing Roy found hard to become accustomed to, after meeting so many wind dragons. He was used to seeing green, pale eyes, not luminous orange.

“Hello,” Roy replied, unsure of the proper response to the other dragon’s greeting. “I hope I’m not disturbing your hunt or anything,”

The Skydancer laughed.

“Oh no, I’m not hunting. You seem a bit lost, are you Yevaun?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you knew of any ruins or relics nearby? Or any clans?” Roy asked.

The two dragons circled each other as the Skydancer thought.

“Well. There are a few nearby clans, and a few lone blacksmiths. As for ruins or relics, there aren’t too many here. The land is too… volatile for anything out of use to last long. The Ashfall Wastes are a place of change,” The Skydancer said finally. “There are the Sunchasers that live over by a lavaflow to the west, and a bit north of here there’s a vein of ore that surfaced, so there are bound to be a few clans around there. Although, the Kingdom of Black Glass and the Ironworkers were living their first. To the east you’ll find the clan of the Flamecallers’ Geyser, the Lava Divers, and a few other clans that have made their home around the hotsprings there. There’s a pack of Mirrors dragons that rove around occasionally. I can’t say I remember their name, if they even have one. To the south of here there’s the scorched forest, and you can always find packs of warriors trying to root out the beasts that live there. There are Harpies around here, so I’d be careful.”

Roy nodded. 

“I think the ore vein would be a good place to start. Thank you for your help… hearthbrother?” He said, and the Skydancer nodded, making the antenna-like feathers sticking from it’s crest bob in an almost hypnotic fashion.

“Good luck in your search, hearthbrother.”

 

So Roy turned and flew northwards, scanning the dark ground below him for signs of a clan, or even a territory marker. He saw a few abandoned forges by what must have been hardened-over lava pools, or exhausted mines, but no territory markers. He spent the night at one such abandoned forge, before pressing on the next day.

 

He was ready to give up for the day and stop to hunt for something to eat when a flash of gold in the otherwise dark grey landscape caught his eye. 

Wheeling around, Roy dipped lower to get a closer look. A large golden dragon lay curled just inside the entrance of a cave that seemed unnaturally thrust out from the ground. The dragon’s sides just barely moved, as if it were in a deep sleep, or close to death. 

A thrill of fear shot through the young guardian. Were they dying? Should he help? There were no signs that this was in any clan’s territory, so perhaps this dragon was an outcast. Or maybe another Yevaun like him, although the dragon was curled too tightly in on itself to tell what kind of dragon it was. 

But after a short conflict, Roy decided he should at least make sure the dragon was alright before continuing onwards. 

 

When he landed, the dragon opened a fiery eye to look Roy over, before closing it again. At least they were alive. Now that he was closer, Roy could tell that the golden dragon was a Guardian, but a much older one judging by it’s size.

“Are you alright? Um, hearthbrother?” Roy asked tentatively, and the dragon’s eyes opened again as it raised his head to glare at Roy.

“ _Istalivo,_ ” He rumbled. “ _Istalivo_ would be the proper greeting. Or _Saliren_ , even. Call me ‘hearthbrother’ again, like some rude little hatchling, and I’ll burn your claws off.”

“ _Is... istalivo?_ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I’m not from around here. Are you alright?” Roy said, and the golden Guardian growled, the sound gravely and deep.

“I’ll be better when my daughter comes home from hunting and you get out of my sight,” the golden Guardian snapped.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but am I close to the Kingdom of Black Glass? I’m on my Search and-” 

Roy was cut off by the arrival of another dragon. Another Guardian, with similar golden colors. Clearly the daughter of the one Roy was talking to. A salamanders and a few long, unfamiliar fish were clutched in her talons. She glared at Roy as she handed her catch to her father before slinking over to an outcropping of rocks. 

“Yes, we live just outside the border of the Kingdom of Black Glass, now go be on your way,” The golden Guardian said.

“I’m sorry for the disrespect, I don’t know much about the customs here,” Roy said. 

“Just go!” The guardian snapped, before sitting up and sniffing at the odd fish. Roy could see the older dragon’s ribs through his golden hide. He looked half starved, and a quick glance over at his daughter showed that she looked just as hungry.

“Perhaps you could teach me? If you need help finding food around here, I’m a pretty decent hunter. You could teach me-”

“Are you some Yevaun passing through or were you sent by the Kingdom to pester me to death?” The Guardian snapped. “We don’t need any help, and I certainly don’t have time to each dragons who do not listen!”

“Sorry to bother you, then. Goodbye,” he said.

 

Roy had a feeling that he shouldn’t press the matter further or the golden guardian really would make good on his threat to burn Roy’s claws off. So he took off, to fly further northwards and hopefully find some nicer dragon in the Kingdom of Black Glass.

The sound of wingbeats following him made him glance back, however. The younger Guardian was following him. When she noticed she’d been spotted, she flinched, and turned as if to fly back.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Roy called, turning around.

He landed, and she approached him warily.

“You said you’re a good hunter?” she said after a moment, although Roy could tell that was not the reason why she had followed him.

“Decent enough,” he replied.

She glanced back over her shoulder.

“My father has to stay at the cave. It is where his charge is, and he cannot leave it. I have to hunt for him. I’m good at finding prey but I can’t always catch it,” she said quietly. “He’s too proud to admit that we’re starving. I’m sure if you brought back something proper, he’d let you stay.”

“Something proper like what?” 

She shuffled her wings.

“Something better than a clawful of loaches and a slow salamander. There is a warren of Searing Rabbits nearby, but they always retreat into their burrows before I can catch them.”

The younger Guardian seemed to be asking him to stay without actually saying it out loud. The thought occurred to him that she had to be awfully lonely, living without a clan or herd, with only her father for company. And with his charge keeping him confined to the cave he was in, Roy doubted her father made for good company.

“Some spicy bunnies, huh?” Roy said thoughtfully. 

 

The rabbits turned out to be tricker to hunt than he’d thought. They were wary, watchful, and very very fast. They’d set up their warrens in some empty volcanic vents, so they couldn’t be dug out once they all dashed back into their holes. 

But the good thing was that Roy could blend into the bleak rocky landscape much better than a golden-scaled guardian. Once he’d crouched down behind some stray boulders long enough that he seemed to be a part of them, the searing rabbits that poked their heads out of the vents every now and then didn’t notice him. So the rabbits came back out, and Roy was able to pin a few under his talons and grab one in his mouth before they could all scamper back down into the vents. 

 

The golden Guardian was not sleeping in the mouth of the cave when Roy returned, but his daughter was curled up under the outcropping of rocks she had retreated to earlier. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes widened when she saw the five rabbits Roy held in his talons. 

“ _Istalivo?_ ” Roy called, peeking into the cave. “I have a peace offering. Perhaps you could teach me how to be… less rude? I can get you even more rabbits.”

There was an odd, scrambling sound deep in the dark depths of the cave, and suddenly the golden Guardian stepped into view.

“Rabbits?” he asked, his fiery eyes wide. 

Roy nodded.

“I blend in well with the rocks, so…” Roy said, holding out the five rabbits. 

The golden Guardian looked at the rabbits with a jealous hunger.

“Alright, Yevaun. You can stay as long as you can bring rabbits and other good catches consistently. And I suppose if you know nothing of etiquette, I doubt you know anything about being a Guardian either. Your first lesson: as I am a settled guardian, you are to call me Berthold-Sulan. I have found my charge, and you are to never, ever come into this cave without me. If you do, I will take it as a sign that you are threatening my charge, and I’ll do a lot worse than just burn your claws off,” he said.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Roy said. 

He had no doubt, despite the obvious effects of hunger on the older dragon, that Berthold could inflict quite a bit of damage if he wanted to. Roy wasn't going to push his boundaries, not if he wanted to stay. He wasn't quite sure why he wanted to stay just yet, but something, not as influential as the Search or the pull to return home to the Ashfall Wastes, told him he should stay.


	3. The Scorched Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy daydreamed about enchanted relics that evening, not even sure exactly what they might look like. Berthold had scratched sketchy diagrams of simple Lightning tech onto a slate yesterday, gears and levers and wires that made no sense to Roy. Perhaps he should journey to the Starfall Isles to see about finding an enchanted relic. It would mean retracing much of his travels, flying back north through the Windswept Plateau, but it might give him an excuse to find the herd again, and see his mother.
> 
> Or Maes. Despite the fact that he’d parted ways with the other Guardian on the shores of the Sea, and that Wind dragons were wanderers by nature, Maes might have returned to the Plateau. 
> 
> Maybe Maes had found his Charge in the fathomless blue waves of the sea. That might convince Roy to one day venture deeper into the water, but… not any time soon.
> 
> The thought that his Charge might be at the bottom of the sea sent a shiver down his spine. What a miserable thought. To be surrounded by the cold, muffling abyss of the sea, at all times, bound by honor and instinct to remain with his Charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm finally updating woooo  
> I'll take this moment to really quickly say that I likely wont update again until December at the very least, unless I get some unnatural burst of inspiration and writing speed. Like in past years, I'll be doing NaNoWriMo and it'll probably consume me for a long while. Hopefully it won't kill my creativity for as long after this time around.  
> I'll probably have to add a few tags because this chapter kind of got away from me. Sorry about that. Didn't think I'd have to do that until at least the next chapter.  
> anyways, enjoy!

It was difficult to adjust to living in one place. Sleeping in the same spot every night, waking to the same landscape every morning. Perhaps it was just that Roy had spent his whole life until this point on the move, or perhaps it was just the discomfort of staying in one spot without a Charge to truly anchor him there. He wanted to press onwards, but he had quite a bit to learn.

From both of the Guardians he now lived with, not just Berthold.

Berthold’s daughter, Riza, knew quite a bit as well. Not the same things, or perhaps quite as relevant as her father would deem, but no less important. She knew her way around, and where prey, as well as dangers, lurked.

She was wary of him, almost in the way Roy had been wary of Maes at first, but showed little to no signs of warming up. But despite this, she always seemed to be keeping an eye on him. When Berthold would drill knowledge into Roy’s head, reading, etiquette, anything, in the mouth of his cave, Riza would lurk nearby. If either of the two acknowledged this, she’d slink away, only to return a few minutes later.

 

“Are you trying to learn too? I’m sure Berthold-sulan would teach you if you asked him,” Roy said.

Riza had followed him out hunting, like usual. 

“I already know how to read. He taught me when I was a hatchling. That’s enough,” she said evenly. 

“Are you sure?”

He glanced back at her, and she seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“He doesn’t care what I know,” she said, before continuing to pick her way over the rocks.

Roy was about to ask why she was always following him around, even though he was sure he already knew the answer, when Riza suddenly lowered herself into a crouch.

“Wh-”

“Shh. I saw something,” she warned in an undertone.

Roy stood still. He blended in well enough to the landscape that he didn’t want to risk his movement giving the two of them away.

Riza stared at the rocks ahead, and a dark-colored ground squirrel, nearly indistinguishable from the rocks around it, carefully climbed its way out from between the rocks.

The squirrel looked around with beady eyes, carefully looking for predators. It turned it’s head away from where the two Guardians lurked, and that’s when Riza pounced, pinning the squirrel her claws. A magnificent catch.

The rocks shifted under her feet, however, and sent her tumbling farther down the piled rocks with a yelp.

Roy suppressed a laugh, and hurried over to make sure she was alright as she scrambled to her feet.

“You alright?” he asked.

Riza sniffed and shuffled her wings to flick off ash. 

“Fine. Let’s keep hunting,” she said.

He’d been sure that the rockslide of pumice and other eroded rocks would be a perfect place to hide. The loose stones had fallen and piled in a way that left many channels and gaps between them. The perfect hiding spot for rabbits, snakes, lizards, and all sorts of other small prey.

And it was. 

Roy drifted further and further from Riza as he searched through the rocks, catching snakes and lizards as he did. 

As he crept after his latest prey, he caught sight of the largest rabbit he’d ever seen. Grey and mottled to be nearly invisible in the bleak landscape, and large enough to come up to his elbows. It would no doubt feed the group of them for a day or so if he caught it. His mouth watered at the thought of it. 

And it was completely unaware of his presence. Back turned, snuffling at some dry grass half buried in ash. It was perfect!

He turned carefully and began to slink down the rocks, mindful of where he placed his paws. If the rocks shifted, it would give him away. And this was too good a chance to mess up. He could almost hear Riza’s soft awe and Berthold’s grudging approval for such a catch…

The rabbit turned, and fixed a pale pink gaze on the rock pile. Roy froze, and as he stood still, he noticed the rabbit had a pair of long, curved horns that he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps it wasn’t a rabbit at all. But it was still large enough to make a good meal. Satisfied that it hadn’t seen any danger, the horned rabbit turned it’s attention back to the grass.

Roy lunged, and the rabbit whirled to face him with a snort.

Startled, Roy scrabbled at the loose dirt and ash under his claws to try and back off, but the rabbit snorted, and charged him, ramming it’s horns square into his chest with enough force to make him stagger backwards and fall into a sitting position. 

Wheezing, Roy attempted to stand, and the horned rabbit was on him again, clawing and kicking and ramming. He couldn’t get away from it! 

So he curled up, pulling his wings over his body to try and shield himself from the strange rabbit.

 

“Roy? Roy? Roy!”

He heard Riza’s voice, but it sounded muffled and distant. Everything ached. Roy didn’t want to move, but he folded his wings and lifted his head.

With a clatter of rocks, Riza hurried over.

“What happened? Did you fall?” she asked, circling him and tipping her head this way and that, as if trying to see if he was hurt.

Roy stretched as he stood.

“No, I didn’t fall. I saw a rabbit, but it attacked me!” he said, slowly returning to his senses.

Riza smirked.

“It attacked you?” she said.

“It was a big rabbit! And it had horns,” he insisted.

“Oh, it had horns, huh?”

The two poked fun at each other good-naturedly all the way back to where Berthold was waiting. He lay sprawled in the mouth of his cave, watching the two as they approached.

Riza’s playful attitude drained away, and she presented her catches to her father silently. 

 

“Not much is known about the second age, other than the peoples who lived during it eventually became the Beastclans we know today. They obviously have retained their savage and warlike ways,” Berthold said.

“Despite their brutish nature, the peoples of the second age were able to advance their technologies to nearly what the Lightning flight has today, but all of it was wiped out during the magical explosion that created the Arcanist. The lingering magics and pieces of enchanted machinery are often found throughout the Starfall Isles, and rarely, the neighboring territories.”  
A steady source of food appeared to have bolstered Berthold’s health. No longer did he look like a living corpse, although he remained nearly painfully thin, and his fire-bright eyes remained sunken. He taught his lessons of history and languages and sciences reclining in the mouth of his cave, or, on a good day, sitting upright. 

“What sort of enchantments do the pieces have on them?” Roy asked.

“That’s something to ask a dragon of the Arcane flight. There are whole clans who dedicate their lives to studying the enchantments of second age relics,” he said.

Roy daydreamed about enchanted relics that evening, not even sure exactly what they might look like. Berthold had scratched sketchy diagrams of simple Lightning tech onto a slate yesterday, gears and levers and wires that made no sense to Roy. Perhaps he should journey to the Starfall Isles to see about finding an enchanted relic. It would mean retracing much of his travels, flying back north through the Windswept Plateau, but it might give him an excuse to find the herd again, and see his mother.

Or Maes. Despite the fact that he’d parted ways with the other Guardian on the shores of the Sea, and that Wind dragons were wanderers by nature, Maes might have returned to the Plateau. 

Maybe Maes had found his Charge in the fathomless blue waves of the sea. That might convince Roy to one day venture deeper into the water, but… not any time soon.

The thought that his Charge might be at the bottom of the sea sent a shiver down his spine. What a miserable thought. To be surrounded by the cold, muffling abyss of the sea, at all times, bound by honor and instinct to remain with his Charge.

Another thought drove him out from under the ledge he slept under to where Riza lay curled. When he approached, her eyes snapped open, but she didn’t move. It made him pause for a moment, but he crept closer.

“What is your father’s Charge?” he asked quietly. Berthold had disappeared back into his cave, but having been forbidden from entering, Roy had no idea how deep it ran, or where Berthold’s Charge might be in it.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it,” Riza said. “He doesn’t talk about it, but he says it was my mother’s Charge as well. It was how they met. I think he intends for me to take it as my Charge as well, once I feel the need to go out on my Search.”

“And if his Charge isn’t yours?” I asked.

Riza curled herself smaller, as if she pressed tight enough in on herself she might disappear. 

“I don’t know.”

Roy sat down.

“I am not the most knowledgeable, but I’m pretty sure there’s no way of forcing a Guardian to take a Charge that isn’t theirs. If your Search takes you away from here, your father can’t stop you,” Roy said, trying to sound comforting.

It didn’t help, as Riza curled farther in on herself, tucking her head under her wing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” Roy said hurriedly. 

“I don’t like thinking about my Charge,” Riza said, her voice muffled from under her wing. “I don’t want to be trapped, like my father. I don’t want to have the same Charge as him.”

“That’s understandable,” Roy said. “Personally, I’m afraid that my Charge might be in the Sea of a Thousand Currents, and that I’ll have to be stuck in the water forever.”

Riza snorted.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said.

“You haven’t seen the Sea. It’s huge. And cold,” Roy said with a shiver.

Riza peeked her head out from under her wing.

“How long are you going to stay?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Roy asked. “Do you want me to go back so you can-”

“No, I mean, how long do you plan on staying here with my father and I? Your charge isn’t here, is it?” she said.

Roy looked away, down at his claws.

“I’m not sure. Once I’ve learned all that I need to, I guess,” he said. 

Riza pulled her wing back down over her head, and didn’t respond to any further questions, so Roy retreated back to his ledge.

 

The next day, when the two went out hunting, Roy encountered the strange horned rabbit again.

He stared the rabbit down, glaring at it. The rabbit snorted, and feigned a charge, making Roy scramble backwards, startled. He was in no mood to get beat up again.

A short bark of laughter caused both Roy and the horned rabbit to turn. Riza stood a short distance away, her eyes glinting.

“This is what attacked you the other day?” She asked.

“Don’t let it’s appearance fool you, it’s vicious,” Roy said.

As if to prove his point, the rabbit snorted and pawed at the ground, but Riza did not look impressed. 

She was about to take a step forwards when suddenly a line of fire erupted between her and the horned rabbit.

Both young Guardians leaped back. Even having made his new home in the Ashfall Wastes, Roy retained a healthy fear for the element, and scrambled back a bit farther than Riza did.

On the other side of the flames, the horned rabbit snorted again, thumping his large hind feet on the ground, before turning tail and hopping off.

“I wouldn’t go provoking the jackalopes if I were you,” a smug voice said, causing the two to look up.

Circling above was a slightly familiar black and white Skydancer. With a slight tip of his dark wings, the Skydancer landed just before the slowly dying line of fire. Riza slunk backwards, slipping back into her shyer and more defensive shell. 

The Skydancer’s strangely limp antenna twitched slightly as he tipped his head in a birdlike fashion, examining first Riza, and then Roy. His orange eyes seemed oddly cold for a fire dragon, calculating and glassy.

“Ah, the Yevaun from a few weeks ago, unless… are you Yerlan now?” the Skydancer said, his gaze flicking from Roy back to Riza.

Riza actually growled, shocking Roy. She’d been standoffish, but he’d never actually heard her growl. And even not fully grown, she was still at the very least twice as large as the Skydancer.

The Skydancer’s antena twitched again, and he smirked slightly.

“Not quite yet,” Roy said. 

The Skydancer nodded.

“Still Searching, then. You as well?” he asked Riza.

“Get out,” Riza snarled. “Or I’ll bite your tail off.”

The Skydancer’s feathers ruffled.

“Oh, you must be one of the drifters at the Kingdom of Black Glass’s border.”

At the mention of the clan’s name, Riza growled again.

“If you’re from the Kingdom, then I’ll take your wings too, and leave you landbound like a lizard,” she threatened.

“With a mouth like that, it’s no wonder you’re a drifter,” the Skydancer tutted. “In any case, until you are better at fighting, I’d advise you leave the jackalopes alone.”

And with that, the Skydancer launched himself back into the sky, gliding off like a ghost. Roy was half tempted to follow, to question further, but he had a feeling it would be against his best interests to do so. The dark glint of the eyes of the horned rabbit, no, jackalope, Roy corrected himself, stared out of the dry scrub, taunting. The damn thing was all but daring for Roy to disregard the Skydancer’s warning and chase after it. 

And Roy was sure that if he did, he’d wind up miserably defeated again. He’d an opponent elsewhere.

Riza still glared up at the sky, at the clouds the Skydancer had vanished into.

“What’s your quarrel with the Kingdom of Black Glass?” Roy asked, breaking the silence.

“Damn overgrown lizards want my father and I to join their clan. The last time they sent their ambassador down to see us, the idiot tried to follow my father. He didn’t have enough feathers left on his wings to fly back, and had to scuttle back home on foot,” Riza said, then snorted. “It was actually quite funny. A Coatl without plumage is really nothing more than a snake with legs.”

“What’s so wrong about joining up, other than that breach of privacy?”

Riza didn’t respond, and Roy guessed it was a pride thing.

 

The next day, when Roy was hunting alone, he came across a different sort of strange creature. He’d wandered far from the rocky, burnt-out forest, and out into a dry grassland, with the occasional dark rock thrust up from the ground. The grass was shorter than the grass of the windswept plateau, and was tougher, hardier. And completely still in the windless air. Today, the air was still.

The still grassland made Roy’s spine crawl. Grass should be rippling with wind.

But the still grass did made it easier to spot things moving in it. When most of the grass was still, movement of the blades meant something in them was moving. Prey, most often.  
Field mice and other small things barely worth the time of such a large predator, Roy quickly found, were usually the culprit of such movement. 

Before he encountered another oddity, similar to the Jackalope.

 

A deer-thing with moth wings. It stared at Roy with white, unblinking eyes, fluttering it’s wings so it hovered just above the top of the grass. 

Wary that the odd moth-deer might charge him, Roy glared back, before taking a hesitant step towards the moth-deer. It snorted, then seemed to puff up, it’s fur standing on end, before it spat a stick gob of… something, which landed on Roy’s claws. 

Wrinkling his snout in disgust, he lifted up his paw to look at the strange sticky substance coating it. Grass stuck to it where he accidentally brushed his paw against it. It was quite disgusting. 

So, with a growl, Roy pounced after the moth-deer.

 

Riza found him, about an hour later, with a moth-deer pinned under his sticky claws. It wasn’t the same moth-deer, and it wasn’t even the second one he’d caught. He’d chased countless of the weird deer about the small, dry meadow, catching only a few, but Roy himself was caught up enough in the almost game of it that he lost count.

“What?” Riza asked, as if she couldn’t finish the question. There were too many to ask. 

Roy just grinned.

“Watch this!” 

Over the course of the hour of chasing around the moth-deer, he’d figured out how to mimic their production of the strange sticky substance. It was magical in nature, fading after a few minutes. 

He released the moth-deer he had pinned, then spat after it. The sticky glob hit the creature’s franticly fluttering wings, sticking them together, and sending it tumbling. 

Riza frowned.

“That’s unusual,” she said.

“It’s magic!” Roy insisted, and she narrowed her eyes.

“I’d ask my father about that. He knows more about magic than I do.”

 

While Riza had been slightly puzzled by the magic, Berthold seemed almost… disapproving.

“Dragons are naturally deeply tied to the elements. It’s almost unheard of to be a dragon and have no magical ability at all,” Berthold began after Roy’s brief demonstration of what he’d learned from the moth-deer. “But it’s not natural for a Guardian to channel magic through the breath.”

“But my- I heard that dragons born in the fire flight could breathe fire?” Roy said, and Berthold snorted.

“Coatls breathe fire. Skydancers breathe fire. Faes and Pearlcatchers breathe fire. Guardians channel their magic physically. Breathing is important for all magics, breath is simply the most effective way for weaker breeds to use magic,” Berthold said.

“Are you calling me weak?” Roy snarled, stepping closer.

The older guardian hauled himself to his feet, inhaling deeply so his ribs seemed to be close to pushing out of his skin. 

“This is the proper way to channel your magic,” Berthold said, and swiped at Roy. Flames sparked to life on his claws, leaving burning trails in the air. Roy jumped back, startled, and Riza made a small, choked noise. Berthold’s paw slammed into the dusty ground, and the flames flickered out, leaving behind a small scorched circle.

The effort seemed to have winded Berthold, and he sat down heavily, sides heaving. 

“A poor Guardian you will make if you rely only on magic to protect your charge,” Berthold said. 

 

Despite the older Guardian’s warnings, Roy continued to practice magic his way, chasing down the moth-deer, which Riza eventually told him were called Death’s Head Stag. There were other creatures that lurked in the dry meadow, glowing mice and strange moth people. 

And as time went on, Berthold’s health seemed to worsen. Often times he bled from the mouth and nose. His scales dulled in color. Dark circles bloomed under his bloodshot eyes, and his appetite dwindled. What little he did ate had a very rare chance of actually staying down. He remained in his cave for days before dragging himself out to the entrance, always worse than when he’d last been seen. 

 

“I think he’s dying,” Riza said one day, with the same tone as one might say “I think it might rain today”.

“Are… what will you do if he does?” Roy asked delicately.

“I don’t think there’s an if at this point,” she said, pointedly turning away to look towards the horizon. “I think I will go, when he dies.”

“Where? The Kingdom of Black Glass?”

There was a sudden raspy growl, and instantly Roy regretted his words. The two turned around to see Berthold standing unsteadily at the mouth of his cave. Dark blood was flowing thickly from his nostrils and dripping down his chin unchecked. The webbed fins at his jaw were so riddled with holes they were barely recognizable as fins at all. His eyes were so sunken and his face was so thin, that with his snarling expression, it gave him the look of a half-dried corpse, long dead and lying in the sun. 

“I knew you were no good, a craftier interloper from the kingdom, here to steal my hatchling away from her rightful charge,” he snarled, stalking forwards. His wings flared to steady his skeletal body. Roy flinched back, not out of fear that he’d be harmed, but for the unnatural look Berthold’s wings now had. They had far too many digits with uneven, haphazard joints, and the edge of the membrane was lacy with unnatural holes. 

“Leave, you filthy spy! Back to your Kingdom” he spat at Roy, then lunged, sickly flames springing to existence on his claws. Startled by the sudden attack, the younger Guardian flinched, too stunned by the sudden attack to move, but in a sudden blur of gold, Riza jumped into the path of her father’s strike, his claws catching her in the shoulder.

She snapped her jaws shut with a clack, swallowing any other noise of pain. There was an unreadable expression on her face as Roy stared at her in confusion.

Berthold growled.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

The flames on his claws didn’t snuff out on contact, and still flickered across his claws, and Riza’s scales. 

“Go,” Riza said, almost too softly to audible. 

“I- what?” 

In a surprisingly fluid movement, Riza shrugged off her father’s claws, before turning on Roy herself, digging her claws into the ashy ground. Her wings half raised threateningly, and her fins stood quivering, but the threatening stance didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her chest heaved, and the scales on her back smoldered.

“Go!” She repeated.

Before either of the golden Guardians could do anything, Roy jumped into the air, frantically taking off. Riza seemed to droop, and, as Roy caught an updraft and ascended, he watched Berthold grab Riza by the back of the neck like a hatchling and drag her with unnatural strength into his cave.

 

Adrenaline pumping in his veins, Roy could only fly the short distance to the Kingdom of Black Glass before his wings locked up. He wasn’t even sure why he’d chosen to go to the one place Riza and Berthold refused to go. Perhaps it was because they expected him to go there that he did.

He landed sloppily, stiff-limbed in the main square of the clan, to surprisingly less few confused looks than he expected. 

A small black dragon with shining glassy scales approached him.

“You’re one of the drifters,” they said, staring up at him. 

“Yes. I don’t know why I’m here,” Roy confessed. 

The black dragon puffed out the frill that ran down it’s neck, and Roy’s tired brain finally caught up with him. A Nocturne. Shadow dragons, made of pine bark, mist, and shadow sludge. 

“Well, you’re welcome to stay, drifter,” the Nocturne said. “We’ve got plenty of space for newcomers. Will your two friends be joining us?”

Roy straightened, folding his drooping wings.

“No. I don’t think so but-”

The image of Riza, her father’s burning claws digging into her shoulder. 

“I think I’ll just be staying the night. I need to go back. Riza…”

The Nocturne made a concerned clicking noise.

“Well, even if it is for the night, I’ll show you where you can stay.”

The Nocturne showed Roy to a building made of stacked rock, similar to the other buildings around it. The clans main living space seemed to be comprised of similar rocky structures of varying size. The roofs were tiled with thinner, lighter, almost shiny rock, while the walls were made of stacked, slightly uneven blocks held together with cement.

“I’m sorry that we don’t really have anything that would fit you properly, but if you’re only staying the night this should be alright,” The Nocturne said. “If you and your drifter friends wanted to join and live in the town proper we could get our builders to fix a house up to Guardian size right away. We’re mostly Coatls and Nocturnes and other mid-sized dragons here.”

Roy nodded, but he doubted he’d be able to convince either Riza or Berthold to join the clan.

“We have dinner in a few hours, if you’d like to join us,” The Nocturne said, after letting Roy into the house. He thanked them, then retreated into the bedroom. The house only had two rooms, the main room, and the bedroom. The only indication it was, in fact, a bedroom was the simple depression in the slate-tiled floor, with a colorful quilt folded in the center. 

Despite the sun only just setting, with all the excitement and the sudden and very rapid flight to the Kingdom, Roy was exhausted.

He pushed the folded quilt out of the way, and curled up in the depression, and fell asleep almost instantly.

 

Waking up in an unfamiliar location after so long living in one place was a little disorienting, and only became even more so when Roy emerged from the little two-room house to find the clan of dragons bustling and busy. The area was a riot of colorful feathers, the Nocturne had been right yesterday in saying the clan was mostly Coatls. The feathery serpentine dragons hurried about on their short legs, or flew, gliding through the ashy sky.

Roy all but waded through the crowd of smaller dragons to a fountain in the main square of the clan, where a red Coatl sat beside what looked to be a pile of blue and orange fur that had sprouted wings.

The Coatl hummed pleasantly, then suddenly the pile of fur spoke.

“Thirsty?” it asked, and Roy jumped. 

The pile shifted, and he realized it was a dragon. It reached up and pushed fur out of it’s eyes, before leaning forwards to sniff at Roy.

“Hm. I don’t know you,” the strange dragon said, and the red Coatl hummed. Roy suddenly realized that the strange furry dragon was a Tundra. How strange to find a dragon more suited to the southern icefields in the fire lands.

“Ah. One of the drifters. Thirsty?” the Tundra offered Roy a terracotta jug.

Roy accepted the jug gratefully, although it contained not much more than a mouthful to him. 

The Coatl hummed, and presented Roy with another jug. 

“Thank you,” Roy said, taking the new just and handing the empty one back to the Tundra. The Coatl nodded it’s snakelike head and continued to hum, almost contentedly.

“Cherry wants to know if you’re hungry, too,” the Tundra said, dipping the empty jug into the fountain. “She doesn’t speak the same as us. She only knows Coatl.”

“Oh, no I’m not hungry. Thank you for offering, though,” he said, and the Tundra nodded.

“See you around, then, Drifter,” the Tundra said, and Cherry, the Coatl, hummed her own farewell. 

Roy walked until the crowd around and above him thinned out enough that he felt like he could take off without running into one of the numerous Coatls. He stretched, finally, feeling less cramped. The clan’s main living space was obviously designed for dragons far smaller than him. Thankfully he didn’t have to stay long, he could just continue northwards…

He spread his wings, and was about to take off when he finally seemed to wake up.

North? Why would he be going north? He had to go back and make sure Riza was alright!

Taking off, Roy angled back southwards, back towards the two Guardians he had spent the last cycle and a half living with. Hopefully he could make Berthold see reason.

 

The cave wasn’t hard to find, even without Berthold sitting in it’s entrance. Riza was nowhere to be seen, and Roy had first spent a few hours searching the surrounding area where Riza liked to hunt, even though he doubted she’d be out hunting with the wound’s she’d sustained the previous night. She wasn’t under the ledge where she usually slept. 

Which left only her father’s cave.

The dark entrance seemed menacing, and Roy remembered Berthold’s old threat of burning his claws off if he ever entered. Now, he suspected, Berthold wouldn’t hesitate to burn off a lot more than just his claws.

Still, he had to make sure Riza was ok, and Roy would be lying if he wasn’t a little bit curious as to what Berthold’s charge was, lurking mysteriously down in the cave.

So he squared his wings, swallowed nervously, and entered the cave. 

 

There was an abrupt turn a few steps into the cave, cutting off most of the light, and as soon as Roy turned the corner, a headache seemed to bloom at the base of his skull, but at the same time, he felt… invigorated. Like he could create and sustain a flame overnight. Despite this, the cave smelled horribly, like rot and decay.

The cave was dark, and only got darker, until Roy was feeling his way forward, slowly and carefully, before it began to lighten again. As he continued downward, his headache increased, and he began to feel slightly nauseous. He was suddenly glad for not having eaten, because at one point, he had to stop and lean against one of the walls, dry-heaving until the nausea passed. 

The light seemed to be coming from a chamber up ahead. Roy had passed a few on his way down. 

Cautiously, Roy peeked into the chamber.

 

It was large, and well lit by a few torches that burned with Berthold’s sickly fire. Berthold himself was nowhere to be seen, but, there was the chance that he was somewhere behind the huge object that dominated the chamber.

Standing, partially embedded into the stone floor, was a giant, warped fragment of metal. Even just standing at the doorway to the chamber made Roy’s head spin, like the ground wasn’t steady below him. A skeleton lay at the base of the warped fragment, which filled him with a momentary fear, before he realized it was too large to be Riza’s. And far too long dead, in any case.

The skeleton wasn’t a pristine white, but a rather grubby tan, and much to Roy’s horror, it seemed that some of it’s larger bones were delicately carved with spiraling patterns inlaid with gold. The horns of the skeleton were also plated with gold leaf. 

A strange bird with webbed wings perched upon the skeleton’s spine. It looked up at Roy with too many beady eyes, and ruffled it’s ruby feathers. 

“What are you doing here?”

Roy jumped and spun around to face Riza.

Her wings were folded limply and loosely, and she looked unnaturally frail. In the dim light of the passageway, the burned wounds on her back looked like a reflection of the darker banding that extended up from her belly.

“I came back to make sure you were ok. And to apologize for-” Roy began, but Riza cut him off with a short growl.

“You’ll have a lot more to apologize for if my father catches you down here. Follow me, and be quiet,” she said, and lead him back up to a dark chamber off of the main passage of the cave.

The chamber was darker than night, and Roy heard Riza fumbling about before suddenly something bumped painfully into his snout.

“Light this,” she instructed, and as Roy inhaled she added: “Carefully! Magic is different here.”

And even though Roy tried only to breathe a short, controlled flame, he nearly burnt up the entire candle. The over-energized feeling from when he first entered the cave returned. His magic felt… as if it were not his own.

In the candlelight, Riza’s wounds looked even worse, and more numerous than when he had departed.

“You shouldn’t have come back. And you especially shouldn’t have come in here. You would have been safe in the Kingdom, full of those foolish Coatls,” her lips twitched up in a sneer of disgust for a moment. “I would have come to find you eventually, when I had to go hunt.”

“I had to know you were alright. What even was that down there? That metal thing? The skeleton?” Roy asked.

Riza’s wings twitched up towards her back before relaxing back down to their limp position.

“His charge. An Arcane relic from the very end of the second age. It’s what’s changing the magic down here. And also my father. I think if we were to spend as much time in the cave as he does, it would change us as well. It’s magic is poisonous,” she said.

“And the skeleton?”

“My mother.”

Roy was revolted.

“And Berthold just left her there?”

“It is honorable for her to remain with her Charge, even in death,” she said with a nod. 

Roy was struck with the horrifying mental image of his own skeleton, curled in some secluded ruins around his Charge. 

“How can he live down here?” Roy asked faintly. “How could you live down here?”

“I’m not going to. Now that I’ve seen the relic, I’m sure. It’s not my Charge,” Riza said. 

A determined light burned in her eyes. 

“How are you going to tell Berthold? After last night…”

The golden Guardian nodded.

“He’d kill me. That’s why I’m not going to tell him. You’re still Searching, right? I’ll come with you.”

“But he’s your father! And just last night, you said you wouldn't leave until he died!”

Riza’s resolve didn’t waver.

“He also attacked me without a second thought. He only ever had hatchlings in the hopes that one might stay and protect his Charge after he died. All of my nestmates died in their eggs, and my mother died shortly after I hatched. He’ll have no more hatchlings, not in this state,” she said. “He never deserved any to begin with.”

“And what of his Charge?”

“He will join my mother in her eternal watch of it. Perhaps someday another Guardian will come along and join them. But it won’t be me.”

 

The two ascended from the cave, and Roy gratefully breathed in the fresh, ashy air of the outside. 

“Are you sure? We could just stay, and wait until the poison of his Charge kills him. It seems cruel to just leave him to die,” Roy said.

“If we don’t go now, we’ll never leave,” Riza said.

So the two young Guardians leaped into the air, rising into the grey sky. If Riza looked back to see the warped, golden form of her father staggering up and out of the cave, she didn’t say anything. Roy didn’t look back, his orange eyes were fixed on the northern horizon. His Search pulled him north, and as did hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo i doubt that anyone super cares about my self-indulgent dragon stories, but because of Life and Other Factors, chances are this fic is going to end up a LOOOOT shorter than I planned it to be, and I'm going to go back and make edits to the chapters I already have because looking back on them, I'm not super pleased. Nothing is going to change too badly, I just feel like stuff isn't in character, and that things might be a little too confusing. anyways, if anyone's reading this, thank you, please be patient, updates are coming soon, and you're amazing :)


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